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The Grey Pond

I have a terrible habit of letting my mind run off into worst case scenarios. The most frequently form it takes is the form of hypochondria.

In the past, I suffered from crippling anxiety, which at its worst became severe hypochondria. There no fast easy cure so I had to learn to work my way through it. After years I’ve finished gotten to a point where anxiety is a rare.

It’s rare but it’s not gone. Those pathways still exist and I can slip steam into one in an instant. And it happens every time there’s something wrong with my body—an abnormal ache, a strange bump, a weird bit of unexplained nausea. My mind takes off and runs towards mushroom cloud. I imagine the worst.

You know what’s shitty, recently most of my pains have been legitimate. The pain in the tooth was actually a re-infected root canal. The tingling in my toes was a pinched nerve.

But if anyone has suffered from this mental disorder or has had an actual long term illness, you know that there’s a side effect that doesn’t get mentioned often: depression. I haven’t figured why that happens—maybe it’s a why me” thought process—but your mind gets really murky when you think there’s something wrong with you, like you’re waste deep in a swamp. Everything greys and darkens.

When it happens I suddenly find myself unable to watch crime shows that I normally love. I’m too susceptible to the mood of them. They make me worse. So I look for safe” shows and movies; soft things that remind my of being care-free. Old sitcoms, goofy science fiction, children’s films.

Does it work? Nope. Of course not.

It doesn’t work because, what I feel isn’t coming from the TV, it coming from me. Something feels wrong and I get scared. That’s normal. Why do we so easily forget that fear and discomfort are normal?

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